Macquereau
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: All Harry and Cormac do is play in the sheets... SLASH Cormac/Harry


A/N: This story was inspired vaguely by one too many alcoholic iced teas and the song 'Sensual Seduction' by Snoop Dogg. Oh hell.

**Macquereau**

_Macquereau: n synonym PIMP 1, bully, cadet, easy rider, fancy man, Mack, pander_

It was a silly word, Macquereau, but Harry decided that it fit Cormac McLaggen, bane of his existence, like a glove. He was a pimp and a bully and…well, he could be very fancy indeed. He knew from personal knowledge (snooping in the locker rooms) that McLaggen was partial to silk pants. Silk! They were still in school, for fuck's sakes!

He left the Quidditch lockers last, kit in hand since he didn't like to leave his things overnight somewhere other than his warded trunk. It didn't hurt to be careful, especially with people like Malfoy and McLaggen lurking around the school grounds.

A strong clean wind hit him in the face. The gravel path crunched pleasantly and securely beneath his feet. Harry inhaled deeply; then he cursed. There was just no use trying to deny it. He found Cormac attractive, and that was that. Scowling at his inability to master denial, he walked swiftly along the dark sidewalk, and then began diagonally crossing the grass to get to Gryffindor Tower in the most direct way possible.

His infatuation with Cormac had begun long before the blonde tried out for the Quidditch team.

Walking through Hogsmeade, illegally concealed under his Invisibility Cloak, he'd stumbled across Cormac romancing some gullible Hufflepuff in a narrow alley between two shops. He was first envious at the confident way he spoke to females, and then of his tall and rather elegant physique. Further peeping sessions solidified a developing desire in his subconscious. He was unaware of his crush until it sprang out on him last year. He was busy with the D.A. and trying to make sure that nobody killed him or got him expelled, so he stopped keeping an eye on his housemate. That was when the dreams started. His subconscious, deprived of new data on his crush, supplied him with a series of extremely vivid (and quite pleasurable) dreams that ended with him waking up in a highly embarrassing condition.

At first he thought it was a freak occurrence, since he'd had had dreams about some unusual people before, but that excuse didn't last after six months of steady sex dreams. He started to avoid areas where he might catch a glimpse of McLaggen, not wanting to risk making the dreams more intense than they already were.

To distract himself, he started to focus on McLaggen's faults. He was a bastard to younger years, never helped anyone with their homework, and was just generally a prick to everyone. And yet he had friends and no end of female attention. It was maddening, and eventually Harry just tried to not think about him _at all. _

This didn't work out so well when he came back for sixth year, shaken and disturbed by the loss of Sirius. He intended to stick to his own company for the most part, but being nominated for Quidditch Captain put a damper on that.

And then he had to watch McLaggen fly. Other than his mishap towards the end of his trial, he was a god in the air!

McLaggen's subsequent attempts to seduce Hermione put them in actual contact with each other, something that Harry tried to belittle in his mind to reduce his intensifying dreams. His teenaged libido would not be contained, though, and continued to torture him with dreams of McLaggen doing things he didn't know were possible between two men.

God, he wanted him.

A whispery sound behind him was the only warning he got before a broad hand descended on his shoulder and whirled him around. He snatched out his wand and aimed it between the eyes of whoever it was-

It was McLaggen himself, apparently out for an evening stroll on the grounds. He raised his eyebrow at the wand aimed at his face, and Harry slowly lowered his wand. Harry's hex died in his throat as all the moisture left it. He wasn't wearing his school robes like usual. He wore a blue shirt that brought out his eyes magnificently and loose Muggle trousers, possibly denim. There was a boyish gleam in his eye, and the muscles about his lips were undulating because he was rolling a mint in his mouth.

"Fancy meeting you out here, Potter," he greeted neutrally, "Sorry if I startled you."

Harry took a breath to try and calm his heartbeat and nodded, "its fine. I was just…tense from practice. I thought I was alone. Shouldn't you be at dinner with everyone else?"

"Shouldn't you?" Cormac returned without missing a beat. He snorted when Harry looked outraged and changed the subject, "So anyway, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you about something."

Harry held up a hand, "McLaggen, I am not re-hosting trials so you can have another shot at the Keeper position! It just wouldn't be fair to the other players-"

Cormac put his hand over his mouth, effectively stifling him. Harry gazed at him with wide eyes from behind his palm. Cormac smirked and spoke without lifting his hand, "It's not about the bloody Quidditch. I _can_ accept defeat, you know. This is about something completely different; something personal."

He paused and scuffed his free hand through his hair. Harry wondered if he'd forgotten that he had his hand over his mouth.

"I don't really know how to say this, but let's go with honest and straightforward. Do you want to sleep with me?"

Harry choked. Cormac removed his hand, misinterpreting his choking fit. He rubbed his back and gently massaged circles on his neck until Harry could breathe normally again. Once under control, Harry took a step back.

How was he supposed to react to this? Was this some kind of prank? Had McLaggen gone mental when he wasn't paying attention?

"It's cool if you need some time to think about it, but my offer stands. You're fit and I've seen you looking at me. We're both young, and we have needs. I think you're pretty cool about things, so I figured this is the kind of thing you'd be alright with. Why not sleep together, you know?"

Harry tried to process. Cormac looked fairly sincere, from what he could see in the dim light. Before he could gain any sense of clarity about the situation, Cormac leaned and stole a kiss. This wasn't at all like kissing Cho. Cormac apparently didn't understand the word boundaries, because he pulled Harry still closer and nudged his lips apart to initiate him into the world of French kissing.

His tongue felt alive; his palate moist with desire. He felt warm, really warm. In short, he felt odd. His eyes slipped shut and he started to enjoy the kiss. A sudden cottony weakness in his calves caused him to surge back and topple onto the grass. Cormac dropped to his knees and lay beside him on his side.

Harry felt kind of humiliated that his legs had given out like that, but Cormac seemed to think that he'd done it on purpose. He didn't have a lot of time to agonize over it, though, because Cormac pulled him back under his influence. It began to feel like that one time he'd gotten really, really drunk with the Weasley twins. There was something about wanting something for a really long time and then unexpectedly being given that something that was overwhelming.

He sighed when Cormac sucked on his lips before breaking apart for a break. It didn't do to get a neck ache.

"So is this a yes?"

Harry hesitated before nodding, "Sure, but I have a condition and a question," Cormac nodded to show he was listening and willing, "you can't tell anyone about this. My reputation is really bad already, and I just…I don't need anything else for the Daily Prophet to obsess over or judge me on."

Cormac nibbled on his jaw, "That's fine by me, as long as you do the same for me. If it gets out somehow, we'll both deny it, yeah?"

Harry nodded and let Cormac help him back onto his feet. There was no reason for them to continue getting acquainted on the grounds where someone could walk in on them.

"So what's the question?" Cormac put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked bluntly.

"What about her? She's obviously not going to put out, and I think she might hate me. I just enjoy messing with her. She's cute when she's flustered. Does that bother you?"

Harry thought about it and decided that it didn't. "I guess not. And I won't, you know, mind if you actually do sleep with other people. It's not my business and my sex life won't be yours either. Um, so where should I…meet you?"

"I'll let you know. It'll be soon, though."

Harry flushed and let Cormac kiss his one more time before they went back to the castle, taking separate routes to avoid suspicion. Ron still hated McLaggen and Hermione…Hermione just wanted him to drop dead somewhere.

Cormac let him know with a note pinned to his pillow when and where he wanted to meet up. Harry couldn't help but wonder how Cormac had managed that, and blushed when he remembered that he'd had another one of those damn dreams that night as well. How much did Cormac see?

He really shouldn't be shy about that, though. He _had _agreed to a relationship of casual sex.

Their meeting place was a little garden shed outside of the green houses, long obsolete but still standing. Inside, it hardly exuded the aura of romance. A dirt floor and cobwebbed ceiling rafters do not incline one to mooning. The only decorations were several racks of dusty tools against two of the walls, and a work counter against a third, filled with drawers. Because McLaggen hadn't arrived yet, Harry opened a few of the drawers out of boredom. They contained nothing interesting. Rusty shears, old balls of rotting twine…no hidden treasure or rare seeds. There were deep gauges on top of the wooden counter, possibly made by unruly plants long ago. Harry traced them with his fingers, feeling the grooves.

The door creaked open, and McLaggen gave him a smile that was arrogant as ever. Harry smiled back, looking at him over his shoulder while continuing to trace the marks.

"This is…rustic."

Cormac waved his wand and conjured a long thick cushion padding materialized over the top of the counter. Instead of grooves, he could feel the texture of the pinstriped pattern.

"Better?"

Harry hopped up to sit on it, and nodded once he found the cushion to be soft but just firm enough. "This will do, I suppose," he looked around, "This place is ancient. How did you find it?"

"What, you mean you don't know about this place? Why Potter, you surprise me. I thought you knew everything about the Castle, what with the way you're always popping up out of hidden passages and getting into trouble."

"I am not always popping out of secret passages!" Harry protested. McLaggen was right, of course, but it wouldn't do to sound like a sneak. Cormac moved closer and invaded Harry's personal space. He tried not to think about how nervous he was. Did McLaggen know that this was his first time, not just with a guy but anyone at all?

His legs were gently moved apart enough so that Cormac could stand between them, his hands comfortably on Harry's hips. Even with the counter raising him, Harry found that they were eye to eye. He didn't have a lot of time to think about this, though, because apparently Cormac also didn't believe in giving people a fair warning. He swooped down and fairly ravished his mouth. Being unprepared for such a skirmish, Harry quickly ran out of breath and had to figure out how to breathe through his nose while kissing.

Cormac didn't let up for a moment after finally releasing his lips, moving to the sensitive cartilage behind his ears. This was the area that ached most when he had a headache not related to his scar, so the suction applied thereon quickly reduced him to a quivering mess. Cormac made a humming noise when he visited Harry's lips again.

"Did you like that? You're not making a lot of noise, so I have to ask."

Harry nodded, "It was nice. You're doing fine. I guess I'm just, you know, quiet."

Cormac chewed his lip, looking at him intently. Harry squirmed under that look, feeling a little sweaty and flustered. A smirk twisted his lips into a look that Harry wasn't sure what to make of. It was explained when he murmured, "Let's see if I can't change that."

Used to his decisive and unexpected movements now, Harry wasn't too surprised when Cormac practically tore at his shirt buttons in his eagerness to undress him. Harry helped as best as he was able, but Cormac was like a small very concentrated hurricane.

He yelped when he realized that, while he'd been distracted about his shirt, his sneakers and socks had been slipped off. It was chilly out, and he curled his toes against the cold. Cormac slid a hand down the back of his jeans without preamble, and Harry yelped. He paused.

"'You alright?"

Harry nodded shakily, "You just scared me, and your hands are cold."

"Oh, sorry," he cast a warming charm, the bubble kind that would warm up the whole shack and not just them, "Better?"

"Mm-Hm."

The hand returned down the back of his trousers to knead his arse while its twin swept Harry's hair back from his face and tilted him back to suck on the underside of his chin, the tendons there jumping at the attention. Harry let out a whoosh of air and bit his lip to hold in some sort of sound. He could feel Cormac smile against his skin, and couldn't back an answering one.

Harry realized he wasn't sure what to do with his hands.

That problem was removed when Cormac wordlessly guided one to the front of his trousers. Harry froze for a moment, just a moment, and thought about what he was doing. He was messing around with someone he barely knew, someone who'd insulted his friends and generally proven himself to be a total jerk face. He realized he didn't give a fuck.

He palmed him roughly through his trousers before pulling down the zipper. He was only wearing his trousers, so it was only fair that Cormac show some flesh below the waist. Reaching inside, he glided his fingers over the smooth silk of his pants. It felt lovely on his hands, and he supposed that perhaps investing in some of his own might not be the worst idea.

Cormac grunted and pushed into his hand, reaching between them to undo Harry's trousers and grope him in return. His hands were hot and impatient, and as overwhelming as his kisses. Harry released a shuddering breath that could've been mistaken for a moan when Cormac shoved him back against the wall so that he could lift his hips and pull off his clothes entirely. Once Harry was divested completely of coverings, he paused to take in the sights. Natural brunette and thicker than he'd expected.

Harry watched him watch him with half-lidded eyes, lips parted to take deeper breaths. Cormac slid his palms up his thighs, tickling the short hair there, and tucked his thumbs into the indent where his muscles met at his groin. Instead of charging ahead like Harry was starting to expect from him, he took a step back and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it onto the floor and shoved his trousers down without preamble. Harry couldn't help but notice that he was a lot bigger than him in more ways than one.

"Um…" how were they going to make this work?

But the time for protests was apparently over, because Cormac stepped out of his trousers and bent to pull something out of the pockets. Harry squinted to see what it was. It was a small bottle of something and a plastic packet- Oh; a condom; of course.

Cormac grinned at him and handed him the packet, "Open that, will you? Careful, don't tear it."

To distract himself, Harry asked what was in the bottle. Cormac held it up with a shake, "Lubricant. You don't want me to tear you in half, do you?"

"Aren't there spells for that? I thought-you know- for guys…"

"There are, but I've tried them out and, to be honest, they take away a lot of the experience. That and the loosening and lubricating ones make your arse feel like a woman, which is not something I want when I'm having sex with a bloke. The whole point of gay sex is that you can bloody tell what you're fucking, you know?"

Harry swallowed and nodded, holding out the rubber. Cormac gave him a cheeky grin and moved closer, placing his palms on his hips and bringing them together. Harry gasped and buried his face in his neck to hide what was no doubt a very embarrassing facial expression.

"Why don't you put it on me, Harry?" Harry mumbled that he didn't know how to and Cormac responded, "That's fine; I'll show you."

It was a lot easier than he thought it was going to be, and Cormac was patient with his fumbling. That hurdle over, Cormac moved back in and distracted him so thoroughly with his mouth and hands that he was startled when he felt a finger slide down the curve of his back and under him to prod at something he'd never dared to explore on his own. He gripped his shoulders tight when it slipped past the ring of muscles. It didn't feel that bad, actually.

Cormac's hand on his prick helped things rather a lot.

He whimpered when a third finger weaseled past his defenses, and started to squirm. Cormac drew in a breath, and Harry saw that his eyes were almost black with arousal. He leaned in and licked Harry's upper lip.

"I'm going to make sure you enjoy this," he promised, hefting his hips up and angling them so that he could begin guiding them together. Harry tried to relax, to breathe normally. He wasn't as hard now as he'd been before, but he was curious too.

Cormac felt huge, gigantic, and impossible. He shut his eyes and bit his tongue to keep quiet when he started to rock a little, driving himself in farther and farther with each thrust. Did his prick go on forever? There was only so much he could take…

And then it was done. He met Cormac's eyes, and saw that he was holding his breath, face frozen in a look of ecstatic euphoria.

"This has to be your first time," he whispered, and Harry nodded. He'd been hoping he could keep that part to himself, but if Cormac could tell by the way he felt _down there, _then there was no point in lying, "I can tell, because you're so fucking…I…give me a minute."

Harry started to adjust to way it felt to be filled, and took a deep breath. His contacting muscles apparently did something to Cormac, because he let out a groan and jerked his hips. Harry shrieked. That had hurt! Behind the pain, though, there was something else; something almost good. Cormac pulled out a few inches and then pushed back in. This time it hadn't hurt half as much, and the other feeling was getting better.

Harry relaxed back on his elbow arms and let Cormac form a rhythm for them. Cormac's fist closing around his prick brought him back to attention, and he let out a little moan. Cormac's hand was slick from the lubricant, and it slid up and down the length of his pride like some kind of dream. He started to really enjoy this, and made efforts to squeeze his insides around Cormac's pulsing body part.

Cormac responded by leaning down and biting his neck. Harry howled, because just as his teeth scraped his skin, his prick hit some hidden button deep inside of his that sent him to nirvana. His hips thrashed outside his control, pushing and thrusting wildly in an attempt to get that button pushed again. Cormac watched this through hazy eyes, moving his hips to a powerful beat and grunting every time he hit home. Harry's vision started to go white, and he clutched at Cormac, trying to stave it off, to exist on this plane of pleasure for just a few more minutes. It seemed to go on and on and on, and he thought he might die.

And then Cormac did something to the head of his cock, and he couldn't help it. He came, though the word seemed too plebian to describe what he experienced. He'd often wondered why people bothered to have sex with other people when you could just masturbate if you really needed it, but this explained everything. He could never have lost his mind so completely without Cormac inside him and touching him and kissing the bite mark he'd left on his neck.

Coming down from his high, he noticed that Cormac felt different inside him, not as firm. Cormac mumbled an explanation and slid gently out him. Harry glanced down and saw that the condom was filled with fluid. He felt disappointed that he hadn't paid attention to Cormac's release.

Condom vanished, Cormac climbed up onto the bench with him, and Harry laid down on his side to make room for him. Cormac somehow wriggled around until their bodies were completely knotted together, their faces close enough to share air. He kissed him slowly, lazily, until they felt too sleepy to continue.

"Does this make me easy?" Harry breathed against his hair, and Cormac laughed, the vibrations from it shaking them both.

"Hell no. I've been trying to seduce you for months, you know. I figured you either didn't get my subtlety or just weren't interested; which is why I asked you out the way I did."

Harry scoffed, "This is hardly a date, McLaggen."

All they did was play in the sheets. They didn't go on dates; they didn't hold hands. And they definitely didn't tell anyone what they were doing together in hall closets and old dormitories on the uppermost floors and Cormac's room when his mates were elsewhere. They barely acknowledged each other outside of private. And Harry discovered that he was fine with that. He didn't care if Cormac chose to sleep with other people on the side or string girls along with his easy smiles and muscles.

After all, Cormac was a Macquereau.

~000~

End Macquereau

Let me know what you guys thought of this little foray into Cormac Land. He's a dick, but I kind of like him. What can I say? I go for those aggressive types.


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